Morcone: Once in a wheel

Another town we wanted to visit on our genealogy tour was Morcone. It's one more village on a hill, a few miles north of Fragneto Monforte, which was on our itinerary because it's where my great-grandmother, Concetta, was born. Morcone is more tangentially connected to us: it's where Concetta's maternal grandfather, Paolo Sarpi, hailed from. But though that's a pretty distant connection, his story intrigued us enough to add an another stop. 

Morcone: Piazza with a view.

Now Paolo Sarpi (1552-1623) is a famous (to Italians) historian, statesman, and scientist based in Venice, a monk who defended the Venetian Republic against the papacy, called for the separation of church and state, and was a supporter of Galileo. The photo shows a monument to him erected in his native city. He sounds like a very admirable man, but he doesn't seem to be anywhere on my family tree.

Not my Paolo Sarpi, not my photo.

The Paolo Sarpi I'm related to was abandoned as a newborn in 1818 and placed in the foundling wheel of the Morcone church. This was a common feature in churches and convents throughout the South, a way for unwed mothers or desperate parents to give up a child anonymously and a measure of the dire poverty and harsh mores of that time and place. (For more details, see this interesting article.) Here's a foundling wheel--no longer in use--that we saw in a convent during our recent trip to Sicily.

One side of the wheel was on the church's exterior, so that someone could deposit a baby without being seen. A turn of the wheel moved the baby inside, where it would be baptized, registered in church and civil records, and in most cases put into a Catholic orphanage. 

So many infants were being "esposito," exposed, that is, abandoned on church steps or in the fields, that these wheels became widespread in the 1700s. They were known as "ruote di proietti," wheels for cast-offs, a term that didn't sugarcoat the situation. When the babies were baptized they were often given surnames reflecting their status as foundlings--Proietti, Esposito, Trovato (found), Bastardo--names that were then passed down to their descendants. 

The record for this particular baby, however, states that he arrived in the wheel wrapped in white linen and wearing a bonnet of red silk, two luxury fabrics, indicating that his mother was likely someone of considerably higher standing than most of those who gave up their children. So whoever received him decided he deserved a less derogatory name. At least, we assume that's why he was named after a famous historical figure. 

The church on the right is where our Paolo Sarpi was given up. 

We couldn't find any trace of where a foundling wheel might have been, although we were very curious about the ominous lump on the back side of the church.

A little big for a foundling wheel. In fact, it looks rather like a pizza oven. One more mystery on this mystery tour.

Paolo Sarpi grew up to become a tailor, moved to Fragneto Monforte, married a girl named Maria Nicolina, and fathered ten children, including six girls. All six had Maria as a first name, not uncommon in Italy then or now, including three Maria Filomenas (the first two Maria Filomenas died as young children). Maria Teresa Sarpi, Paolo's oldest child, grew up to marry Domenico Capobianco and had six children between the time she married in her early twenties and her death at age 35. All her girls had the first name Maria as well, including my great-grandmother, Maria Concetta, and her sister, Maria Saveria, known, not surprisingly, as Concetta and Saveria. (One of the boys was Nicola Maria as well.) 

By the time we got to Morcone I was becoming a bit blase about Southern Italian hill towns, so there were probably plenty of charms about the place that I overlooked. One thing I was struck by was the display of magazines in front of a tabaccheria near the church. 

I'd never noticed gun culture in Italy before, but here was evidence that at least some Italians are not only hunters but lovers of guns for guns' sake. Starting at top left, the titles roughly translate as "Hares, Dogs and Hunting," "Dogs," "Weapons and Shooting," "Weapons Showcase: Used and Antique," "Reload," and (my favorite) "Woodcocks: What a Passion!"

Even before the orgy of gun violence that broke out a few weeks later back in the United States, this display seemed both innocent and ominous.